The Thief and The Cobbler's Children
by Anonymous Traveler
Summary: The nameless Thief has done his time with a certain Cobbler, who snatched the envied Golden Balls away from him. But the Thief winds up with more than just a ransom notice when he gets involved with the royal family. And when a new threat is in the palace, will he finally be hailed as a hero of the Golden City, or will his schemes cause him to fall flat on his face - again?
1. Prologue: Prophecy

The Prophecy of Three

 _This the Prophecy of Three,_

 _Spoken by he,_

 _Who searches the sands of time,_

 _And interprets lessons,_

 _Events, and transgressions,_

 _Through the schemes of rhyme._

 _Know that this will transpire,_

 _After the Golden City's sire,_

 _Once dreamy, awakes finally._

 _And the simple salvation,_

 _Will save the great nation,_

 _But only by the Three._

 _In that day, malice,_

 _From a soul dark and callous,_

 _Will rise so the King falls,_

 _And by acts that are tragic,_

 _Will try to destroy the magic,_

 _Of the Golden Balls._

 _But when the Golden Three,_

 _Are no more to be,_

 _Only then will pass the storm;_

 _The Protection, the Histories,_

 _The People, and the Mysteries,_

 _Will change and transform._

 _When the silent won't comply,_

 _Old traditions will die,_

 _And new actions might be taken as sins._

 _But there will be shaped a new mold,_

 _From hearts of pure gold …_

… _And that's where our story begins._

 _A/N Just as a heads-up, I'm going by the Recobbled Cut and the Workprint versions of the film. So don't be surprised if Tack and the Thief are absent of any dialogue and pop culture references in the story. (BTW if you haven't seen the Recobbled version of the movie, WATCH IT! You won't regret it.) More to come!_


	2. Ch1: If You're Nameless, You're Blamless

If You're Nameless, You're Blameless

The rose colored sun greeted the Golden City from the vast desert. Through the dim cold shadows of the city's alleys and doorways, sleepy-eyed merchants and peddlers readied their wares for the day's purchase. Many business men in the ancient city had risen before the sun itself had that morning. One such man was a nameless Thief.

The Thief knew that those in his line of work had partners or assistants, but he preferred to work alone, save for the flies that buzzed around his capped head due to poor hygiene. He didn't take day or night shifts; he seized opportunities whenever he could. He also felt no preference for the wealthy or the poverty stricken. To him, any oyster could hold a pearl.

It was a business he had been in for many years, and the only life he knew. And it had only gotten harder.

He moved quickly and swiftly through the growing throng of people, like a snake through blowing dunes of sand. As the sun peaked over the crescent moon of a mosque, the tiled streets teemed with peddlers, beggars, soldiers, and of all else, thieves. Out of habit, the Thief shifted his eyes at every face he crossed, registering varying levels of attentiveness and the crowd's walking speed. A couple of things to calculate before bumping into anyone while fleecing valuables in the same motion. Moving out of a particularly tight crowd, the Thief came away with only a beaded bracelet. Not much, but he stowed it away in his dirty oversized coat and slunk along behind a pillar. He already had many stolen items in his grasp, but didn't dare lose any.

As if on cue, a young man walked careless by a street patrolling one eyed Brigand, one of the originally appointed royal guards of the city's palace. A gold necklace slipped from inside his sleeve, and as the young man stooped to grab it, his heavy turban toppled off, revealing gems, jewelry, and some silver eating utensils. The poor thief attempted to run, but the Brigand jumped him, and whistled for another Brigand to take the thieved items while he carried the thief to prison. The Thief watched as another nameless one of his trade was dragged away to ambiguity, and was glad he wasn't one of them yet.

The Thief shook his head almost regrettably. It had gotten so much harder to make a living as a thief anymore. And he knew it was all because of the quiet, humble, goody-two-shoes cobbler he had had run into over seventeen years before. Glancing in the direction of the palace, he frowned at it's shadowy walls as if he could see the shoemaker inside, living in luxury.

The Thief himself had been inside the palace, with it's endless rooms and mind-boggling architecture, and had managed to steal it's greatest possession: the Golden Balls. He did lose them, but came so close to finally regaining them again for himself. Until he ran into that cobbler, who stole them back. After all he went through, the Thief just gave up on obtaining that final treasure to return to his life of petty robbery. But ever since the Golden Balls were recovered, King Nod had been more alert than ever before. He took pains to make sure the city was regularly patrolled and misdemeanors were controlled. Not much had gotten past the Brigand Patrol over the years. The Thief was lucky, but then again, he was usually unsuccessful in making any big scale robberies.

The Thief knew as he stepped away from the pillar and continued his way down the street that going small and remaining nameless had kept him out of trouble. He snatched the money purse of a passing woman, but her eye caught his hand. She gave a short yelp, and her tall muscular husband beside her reached over and grabbed the Thief by his long rat nose. He threw the offender to the ground, and held out a hand for the purse. The Thief complied, and after returning the money purse to his wife, they headed to one of the stands to make some purchases. The Thief wasted no time in hurrying away. After ducking behind a cart of leeks, he pulled the coins that used to be in the woman's purse to count them. Twenty-eight gold coins. He knew that couple would be unhappy once they discovered the broken pieces of pottery in the wife's purse.

He chuckled and also knew that being one step ahead of his adversaries was keeping him out of prison.


	3. Ch2: Meet The Royal Sons (And Daughter)

Meet The Royal Sons (And Daughter)

The sun rolled higher in the sky until it's rays reached into the highest rooms of the Golden City's palace. Inside a white-walled bedroom, Princess Yum-Yum yawned and stretched. Or tried to. Her arm was stuck under the bedspread. She tried yanking it until she realized that the left half of herself was sown into the bedsheets. Startled, she looked at her husband, Prince Tack. He lay sound asleep, a needle and thread in his hands, finishing off the last stitches to his right side. The tacks he held between his lips quirked into a tiny smile as he dreamed of completing another shoe.

Princess Yum-Yum sighed, and smiled. Once a cobbler, always a cobbler.

"Tack," she called in a whisper. She shook his shoulder to rouse him. "Wake, Tack, wake. You've done it again."

Tack blinked several times. Then he saw what he had unknowingly done, and an alarmed look crossed his face. He hastily pulled at the thread to free them from the bed.

"Oh, Tack," his wife laughed. "It's the first time in years since you've done that." Tack's cheeks turned red as though he were suddenly sunburned.

"It was only an accident," she affirmed as Tack unfettered her. She got out of bed, and headed toward her wardrobe. "Besides," she said, pulling the doors away and revealing all the purposely broken shoes she kept inside. "I been keeping you busy."

Tack smiled appreciatively as he got out of bed and gathered the spools of thread and needles that had wandered into his well practiced hands. Ever since he married Princess Yum Yum and lived the royal life, there wasn't a need for him to remain a cobbler. And no one broke their shoes. It was a rule of proper royalty. But Tack loved his trade, and sorely missed it over the years. It was a good thing Yum-Yum enjoyed breaking conventions for his sake.

"And I don't care what the Schoolmaster says," Yum-Yum told him, kissing his cheek. "I won't hold you back from repairing shoes if it makes you happy." She headed out through the door frame. "Let's go see if Father's awake and call the children for breakfast." Tack removed the tacks from his mouth, tucked them into a pocket, pulled his white robe over to conceal it, and followed her down the hall.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

They found King Nod wide awake and seated at the head of the table in the dining hall. In his company were Yum-Yum's brother-in-law, King Bubba, her niece, Princess Seraph, and the royal family Schoolmaster. Her father was listening to the Schoolmaster give him advice he didn't care for, and when he saw his daughter and son-in-law enter, he seemed almost relieved for a distraction.

"Ah, there you are, my daughter," he greeted. She came up to him and kissed his nose. The Schoolmaster sniffed annoyed at the interruption, but said nothing. He smoothed back his comb over under his turban, shook loose an oversized sleeve on his green robe, and adjusted the belt that wound tightly round tightly along his enormous girth.

"Are the children awake yet?" Yum Yum asked her father, as a servant pulled out a chair for her.

"Uh, no, no, none of them are here yet," King Nod answered as she seated herself beside him.

The Schoolmaster sighed irately. "They should have been here a half hour ago. Don't they remember they have studies, duties, lessons, and tasks to rehearse? Their birthday is less than a week away, and they aren't even – "

" _I'll_ summon them here, Schoolmaster," King Nod interjected, before the the teacher got started. "Call for my grandchildren!" he ordered his long legged guards who stood over the doorways leading into the main hall.

"Sword …"

"Jewel ..."

"Abacus ..."

"Breakfast!" sang the guards in four part falsetto harmony. Their voices vibrated and echoed throughout the palace, and upstairs to the second level. Two adolescents awoke abruptly at the sound of their names.

"Oh dear!" exclaimed Prince Abacus. "I'm tardy!" He scrambled out of bed, throwing on a blue robe and hastily rushing to his desk to slam the covers of astronomy and calculus books he had studied last night. "Oh, I'm never tardy! What will the Schoolmaster have to say about this? Oh, hurry, hurry!" he panted to himself. He combed his brown hair furiously, and flew out of his room to the staircase.

"All right, I'm up," mumbled Prince Sword, groggily rising out of bed with a yawn. He rubbed his blue eyes, and shuffled around his clothes-strewn room. Weapons of war lay about on the floor and on his desk, his books and scrolls nailed to the wall with shot arrows. One especially long scroll on the history of calligraphy hung on the wall opposite his bed like a tapestry. Before grabbing a red sweat-scented robe to pull over his shoulders, he grabbed a javelin, and hurtled it at the scroll. It hit the center he had painted on it with perfect accuracy and precision."Yes!" he cheered. He grabbed his shoes, racing across the threshold to the hall.

The brothers met at the staircase. Prince Abacus took straight and deliberate steps on the stairs to keep an air of dignity, while Prince Sword leaped onto the banister with a "Whahoo!" and slid down. Both of them had the shared their father's eyes and their mother's hair. But that was where the similarities stopped. With Sword's well muscled, toned build, turned-up nose, and careless attitude compared to Abacus' stalk-thin body, neatly folded attire, and scholarly vocabulary, the two could hardly be triplets. And yet they were, much to their own chagrin.

"Sword, would you stop behaving like a child before you get yourself in trouble?" scolded Abacus.

"What do you care?" Sword called back, already hundreds of feet below him. "Besides, it's faster and funner than taking the stairs!"

"Well, 'funner' does not mean 'permissible!'" called his brother. But he inwardly groaned at the flight of stairs he had to cross all the same.

Sword couldn't help but enjoy the ride down. The staircase, all five hundred feet of it, was black and white, and ran in a stripped pattern, so that if one hurried down it at a good speed, the pattern seemed to move, spiral and zig and zag. It was a ride that never got old.

As the banister slid down to meet the sleek checkerboard tiled floor, Sword went sliding across, through the hall entries, between the long legs of the falsetto guards, calling out a brief "Morning!" to each as he passed. He ceased as he passed the door frame into the dining hall, bumping the Schoolmaster and causing him to nearly topple over. He was relieved that he didn't.

"Well, it's good to see that _you_ are finally here," said the Schoolmaster acidly, brushing imaginary dust from his pant leg that Sword had grazed. "But where are your siblings?"

"Slowpoke's crawling his way down, like always," answered Sword, slipping his shoes on while a servant pulled a chair out for him.

"Prince Abacus follows all the rules well, but I'll have to inform that some must be overlooked for the next few days," replied the Schoolmaster, more to himself than anyone else. "Brigand Alerjeez!"

At the sound of his name, the hook-handed outlaw turned guard appeared. Like most of the Brigands, he was shirtless, shoeless, and missing a couple of body parts. He was one of the few Brigands that remained working within the palace since King Bubba arrived with his own troop of guards to take the job.

"Please royally escort Prince Abacus into the dining hall for breakfast," the Schoolmaster ordered. "Be quick, but be gentle with him!"

"Abacus," asked his mother, Yum Yum. "Have you seen Jewel anywhere upstairs?"

"Um, nope," he replied. He stroked one of the many cats not permitted in the palace under the table. They were his favorite and only pets.

"Please don't speak in fragments, Prince Sword," corrected the Schoolmaster wearily. "I've told you before, you must sound intelligent when you speak."

"Well, that's certainly more than what you can say for Jewel," remarked Abacus, who entered riding on one of Alerjeez's shoulders. "She never speaks at all."

"That girl has to be the most difficult pupil I've ever taught in my whole career," huffed the Schoolmaster. His patience was worn thin as a needle. "I swear, I will go up those stairs myself and see what is keeping Princ – "

But Tack stood up from his chair, and giving his wife and King Nod a knowing look, left the room.

"Where is his majesty leaving at this time?" the Schoolmaster asked confused.

"You needn't worry about expending you're energy, good Schoolmaster," replied King Nod. "He's gone to fetch his daughter on his own."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Tack knew beforehand that Jewel wouldn't be in her room. Nor in any other that the Schoolmaster might have searched. The palace was a vast and mysterious one, full of halls and rooms. There were some that even King Nod didn't know existed. And Tack was going to one of them now.

He walked beside a staircase in a little used room, painted orange and patterned with purple and yellow spots. The spots were of varying sizes, and a particularly large purple one sat under the staircase, the inside of the spot dotted with yellow spots. Unless someone knew to press the tiny spot on the right side of the purple spot, one would never know that it would release a mechanism that triggered the purple spot to open inwardly as a door, leading down a narrow passageway. And if one took the passageway, it would lead down into a cool and mostly dark room, where benches, metal working tools, drawn plans, and a busybody lay in solitude. Tack knew it all too well, and guarded the room like the dark secret it was.

After entering the dingy dark room, he found his daughter. Princess Jewel lay with her arms folded as a pillow under her cheek, resting her head on a desk covered with engraving tools, precious stones, and several bricks of gold. A lone candle still burning illuminated her ghostly pale skin, and the corduroy lines left on her face from the stitching of her leather gloves. Her hair was a bland gray color, and bounded into a tight bun on her head. She wore old patched clothing, borrowed from some of the more menial servants for her craft.

It was all unbecoming for a princess. But she was, after all, a goldsmith by trade.

Tack had to smile. Jewel had worked long into the night and fell asleep at another project. Again. But she was happy with it, and he wouldn't take that away from her.

He tapped her shoulder lightly, and she stirred. Jewel blinked her violet eyes several times before realizing her father standing in her workroom meant something significant. With sudden speed, she leaped out of her chair, knocking it over in the process, and dived for a chest behind her. She threw the lid open, and grabbed the contents: her princess attire. She gave a hasty look of gratitude to her father, and left for the dining hall.

Tack watched her go, and followed after her in the passageway. He knew that though the two of them had never uttered a word to each other before, they both fully sympathized with their troubles as secret tradesmen.


End file.
